


Lay your ghosts down

by vaguely_concerned



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Post Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguely_concerned/pseuds/vaguely_concerned
Summary: Bull tilted his face into the kiss. He reflexively pushed down the shake in his fingers, then had one of those moments of world-turned-upside-down dizziness as he realized he didn’t have to anymore. There was no one left here but the two of them and the Chargers, no Qun to be ultimately responsible to. It was the harder trick, figuring out when you didn’t have to lie.He let himself tremble, just a little.(A take on that excellent Roaring Rampage of Rescue from the Trespasser ending slide!)





	Lay your ghosts down

Skies gray, hanging leaden over the plains; it was probably going to rain later. Bull looked over his shoulder at the crater Dorian had left in the ground before collapsing into exhausted unconsciousness, a ring of burnt grass and numerous Venatori corpses — the leftover magic still clung to the air like a shiver at the edge of his perception and Bull was more than happy to leave _that_ creepy shit behind him as he walked away. At least it had made it easy to find Dorian in all the excitement. They’d spotted the fireworks display from a mile away.

Bull glanced from the corpses down to Dorian where he lay safely cradled in his arms, not for the first time giving a silent thanks that he was solidly on _his_ side these days, more or less.

In the very beginning Bull had been nervous around even the sturdiest human, half convinced he’d break one of them on sheer accident, and while extensive experience had taught him they could — and, in some cases, enthusiastically would — take an impressive amount of punishment, and despite the fact that Dorian was by no means a small man… Bull felt a ghost of that old unease sneak up on him now. At least he was breathing steadily and seemed mostly unscathed, sporting only a few scrapes and bruises and a small trickle of blood from a cut on his forehead. His robes were grass stained and scorched in places, though, which Bull suspected he’d find more upsetting once he woke up.  

“Any time now, Kadan,” Bull muttered, scanning the landscape as he walked towards the hill and concluding Dorian really had gotten all of them before he passed out. A gutsy gambit, luring them out into the open to get them all in one fell swoop, but damned if it hadn’t paid off. Good man.

Dorian made a sound and stirred against him, unfocused eyes sliding open to gaze up at the Iron Bull.

“Hey there,” Bull said, holding him a little closer to his chest as he stopped at the top of the hill. “Welcome back.”

Dorian blinked slowly, reaching up to touch Bull’s face with the tips of his fingers. “...Bull.”

“That’s me,” Bull agreed.

A smile spread over Dorian’s face like a dawn cresting the horizon; instinctively, the Bull grinned back. Dorian mumbled: “Just how hard did I hit my head back there?”, running the backs of his fingers along the edge of Bull’s jaw. “It’s almost like you’re really…”

His eyes narrowed, his expression one of coming back into focus. He glanced around, lingering on several still-smoking patches of grass where Dalish and Rocky had gotten a bit ahead of themselves and a few piles of Venatori bodies they’d left in their wake, then back to Bull.

“Listen,” Bull began, even as part of him knew it was like trying to hold back the tide with your naked hands.

“...you’re really here.”

“Yeah, about that — ” Dorian came out with a rush of what must be the fifty dirtiest Tevene expletives and started wriggling to get out of Bull’s grip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Kadan, take it easy, you knocked yourself out cold just now.”

Dorian didn’t even dignify Bull’s concern with a response, simply glared at him and smacked his hand against Bull’s bicep. “Let me down this _instant!_ ”

The Bull shrugged and gamely let him go, though he kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him when he inevitably wobbled on his feet. Dorian blinked fiercely as he fought to stay upright, then stood up straighter and wheeled on Bull like some vengeful spirit who only occasionally had to decide which of the multiple versions of him he was seeing to focus on.

“What the actual blighted fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Bull pretended to think about it, squinting out over the blood-spattered, gently smoking landscape with his one remaining eye. “Just out for a stroll, I guess. Taking in the sights, enjoying the splendors of the scenery.”

He tried to give Dorian a suggestive, appreciative onceover at that last part, but sadly Dorian seemed too livid to even appreciate good innuendo craftsmanship. Too bad; him standing there all flushed and bristling and, crucially, furiously alive was the best damned thing Iron Bull had seen in years.

“A little bird told me you were in trouble,” the Bull said. “So I came to lend a hand.”

With a spluttered series of noises Dorian slapped his palm flat against the Bull’s chest and then left it there, a smear of blood in the wake of the touch.

“So you thought, what, you’d just wade straight into the middle of bloody Tevinter? Go waltzing into enemy territory like the _world’s least inconspicuous_ — why didn’t you just paint yourself bright red and wear coloured ribbons on your horns while you were at it, maybe send a letter to the Archon announcing your presence, that’s about the same level of discretion!” he barked, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “What were you _thinking?_ ”

“Well, ‘hello and thank you for saving my ass’ to you too, Kadan,” Bull said.

“Oh no, you don’t get to stand there and be all deadpan at me as if _I’m_ the crazy one here! You could have —” Dorian’s stuttered, hand clenching on Bull’s chest, “it’s — I — you could have died!”

“Look who’s talking.”

“That is — well, I’m not going to say I had it well in hand,” he said, as if in the name of honesty and in deference to the smouldering evidence all around them, “but that’s rather beside the point! There were so many ways for this to go horribly wrong that I can’t even — ”

There was a ground-rocking boom, some silence, and then the sound of Krem chewing Rocky out at the top of his lungs — seemed like Rocky’s assurances on his ancestors’ graves that he really had come up with a foolproof deployment system this time had been premature.

Dorian glanced in the direction of the noise, then back at Bull.

“You took the Chargers with you on this suicidal rush as well?”

“Would’ve been harder to convince them to stay out of it,” Bull said levelly, and Dorian gave that small whole-body flinch he did, like the implication itself hurt — he still didn’t really believe it, on some level, that there were people out there who gave enough of a fuck about him to do something like this. The Bull was working on that. And also more than willing to harness the Inquisitor’s protective streak to that end, when the need arose; it was a jolly collaboration, more or less.

“But _you_ brought them here.”

“Sure did.”

“You — you _idiot_ ,” Dorian said, almost helplessly, as if his usually impressive vocabulary had been cut back to the schoolyard taunts of a six year old boy.

Bull shrugged. “Eh. Probably. I’ve been accused of worse.”

“You… you could have _died_ ,” Dorian said again, and his voice broke wrong on the word this time, his eyes shining, the anger cracking open to be shown for what it truly was.

The Bull rested his hand on top of Dorian’s, pressing it flat to his own chest. He looked him in the eye.

“Kadan,” he said.

The wind through the scraggly grass was loud in the silence.

Soundlessly Dorian let himself slump forward until his forehead rested against Bull’s chest. Cupping the back of Dorian’s neck in his hand Bull let his thumb brush back and forth through his hair, rubbing soothing circles there.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Dorian whispered, wrapping his arms around Bull’s waist. He mashed his face into Bull’s chest, a small sound escaping from his throat when Bull pulled him in close.

They stood there for a long time. Bull rocked them gently back and forth like he vaguely remembered Tama doing with him when he was still very small.

“The other captives,” Dorian offered finally, voice muffled against the Bull’s skin. “Did any of them survive, do you know? I tried to keep all the attention on my daring escape, but I don’t know if… ”

“Met some up the road. A few casualties, but none of the young ones. Most of ‘em seemed alright, especially after Krem managed to make it clear we’re freeing them. You probably saved their asses, drawing the Venatori assholes away like that.”

Dorian made a sound like he didn’t find this particularly comforting. He leaned back enough to wipe at his face with a grubby yet elegant sleeve, heaving a sigh. With the red hot energy of anger seeping out of him he looked tired, as gray around the edges as the sky. “Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now, I suppose, one way or the other. Thank you for showing up and giving me the chance, anyhow.”  

For a while he gazed up at the Iron Bull, then blinked as if in surprise, some color returning to his cheeks.

“Oh,” he said, in the tones of a man who’s just remembered he forgot something important, “I, uh. Love you. Couldn’t remember if I ever told you, straight out like that, and when I thought I might die back there I — well. I realized I probably should have made sure you… knew.”

“I inferred,” Bull said dryly, then, when Dorian scowled at him with suspiciously red-rimmed eyes, cupped Dorian’s face in his hand so his thumb rested gently over his lips. “Dorian, of course I know.”

Dorian considered him, folded his hand over Bull’s on his cheek and nodded, eyes slipping shut. He turned his head to press a dry kiss to the palm of Bull’s hand. “I — see. Good.”

He pulled away to stand next to Bull, unselfconsciously running a hand through his hair to tame the mad blood-matted tangle of it somewhat as he glanced around. They surveyed the landscape from the top of the hill for a while, Dorian’s hands resting on his hips as he took in the general air of ash and devastation. Even from this distance you could hear Dalish’s triumphant ‘HAH!’ as she clubbed a staggering Venatori in the head with the glowing crystal at the end of her staff, sending him sprawling to the ground. It always warmed the heart to see his boys having fun with their work.

“You know, you’re making me feel rather silly for carrying on with all this radical political reform tosh, amatus,” Dorian said eventually. “Apparently all I had to do was let you into the country for five hours and half my work would have been done for me.”

Bull spread his hands in a gesture of modesty. “I had some pretty special incentive.”

Dorian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, the scrape on his cheek still a raw and angry red around the edges — Stitches should take a look at that pretty quick, if Dorian didn’t decide a jaunty facial scar would be just the thing to tie together the whole dashing rebel look. The corners of his mouth curled up. “Hah. I can be pretty imaginative. I dare hazard I could come up with some other kind of… incentive, if pressed.”

The innuendo didn’t quite survive the way his voice went thick. He was swaying minutely towards the Bull the way he did when he wanted to be touched but didn’t quite know that was what it was; Bull placed his hand at the small of Dorian’s back, something curling contentedly in his chest when he immediately leaned back into the touch.

“...thank you,” Dorian said after a while, letting his head fall to the side to rest against Bull’s shoulder when Bull wrapped his arm all the way around his waist.

“It’s — good to see you,” Bull said, the words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “Been a while.” Well, damn. Out of the game for only a couple of years and he found himself falling into lapses of honesty like a drunk over loose cobblestones. Dorian glanced up at him as if he’d noticed the weirdness in his tone, but Dorian was a kind man at the end of the day and didn’t comment.

Instead he asked: “Are the Chargers all unscathed by this little expedition, by the way? I was so busy catastrophizing before, I plumb forgot to ask.”

Bull pretended to think it over. “Skinner’s got a broken toe from kicking a guy in the shin in a bar brawl last week, I guess?”

“Well, that’s not on me, at least. I’m sure he deserved it.”

“Won’t be calling anyone a knife ear without glancing fearfully at the shadows for a while, I’ll grant you that.”

Dorian gave a wry smile, but his brows knitted together, whatever he saw in Bull’s face clearly troubling him. Yeah, Bull really had been out of the game too long. Or maybe no one had looked at him quite like this back then, what did he know anymore. “What’s wrong, amatus?”

“This was a close one,” Bull said, and he couldn’t make it casual, couldn’t make it anything but flat and cold and inflectionless. _Too close_. The image of Dorian lying face down in the grass, quiet and unmoving, still haunted him, followed him around like something chilly and dark breathing down his neck, like part of him was stuck back there and was watching him from the outside.

 Dorian softened, the gentleness he was normally loathe to let show creasing his features. “Come here,” he mumbled, drawing the Bull’s head down to him with a hand around the back of his neck and leaning up for a kiss.

Bull brushed his fingertips over Dorian’s face and tilted into the soft touch, moving very deliberately, as if the world was balanced right on the edge of a knife and one careless breath might unsettle it all.

He reflexively pushed down the shake in his fingers, then had one of those moments of world-turned-upside-down dizziness as he realized he didn’t have to anymore. There was no one here with more than a five minute life expectancy but the two of them and the Chargers, no Qun to be ultimately responsible to. It was the harder trick, figuring out when you didn’t have to lie.

He let himself tremble, just a little.

“Oh,” Dorian said, an exhale of realization against the Bull’s lips. He cupped Bull’s face in his palms and kissed him deeper, gentle like he was handling — what. Someone else’s precious heirloom, maybe, or one of those insanely expensive magical clockwork birds with bones as delicate as strands of cobweb. Something priceless and fragile he didn’t know if he had the right to hold.

Bull let Dorian part his lips with his own, yielding to the warm searching pressure, answering with a careful push forward of his own. Then, as if the warmth of it had melted some cold barrier inside him he slid his hand down to Dorian’s ass and thighs and lifted him up, hauling him in as close as he could.

“Whoa there,” Dorian said, half laugh and half yelp, hurriedly wrapping his legs around the Bull’s waist. “A little warning before manhandling me next time, perhaps? I’m still seeing mostly double here.”

With a noncommittal grunt Bull kissed him again, grinning when Dorian wound his arms around his neck and went happily pliant against him. When Bull was done with him he had gone so thoroughly boneless that only Bull’s hold on him kept him up, and Bull felt mostly whole again, no part of him left behind in the grass. As for the parts that he’d had to tear out and leave behind for good — well. They’d been hard to carry all those years, for all they’d been important. He’d made peace with putting them down.

“You okay?” Dorian asked, stroking a thumb along Bull’s eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Bull sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just — got stuck there for a second. Stuff gets tangled up weird in my head sometimes. I’ve found too many friends dead like that before and this has been… a shitty week.”

Dorian winced a little. “Sorry about that. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Bull shook his head. “Not your fault. Unless you’ve been the secret mastermind behind the Venatori all these years and ordered your own kidnapping in a spectacular double — dare I say triple — cross, in which case… I insist you tell me, because that would be awesome. And kinda hot.”

“What did I tell you, reading Varric’s books whenever the spy nostalgia kicks in is bound to rot your brain.”

Bull grinned and put everything he had into kissing Dorian one more time, just because he could.

“Or maybe I should endeavor to get kidnapped more often, if this is what I get for it,” Dorian chuckled breathlessly.

“Don’t,” Bull groaned, bumping their noses together. “I’m always up for an honest day of bashing bad guy heads in, but I’m getting too old for _this_ crap. Just hit me up on that weird crystal thing and talk dirty like a normal person if you wanna talk to me.”

“I would never set out to be anything so gauche as a ‘normal person’,” Dorian scoffed. His fingers ran around the base of Bull’s horn in an absent-minded caress, sending happy shivers down the back of his neck. “I like the dirty talk part, though, we’ll keep working on that.”

Bull smiled crookedly. “You got it, Kadan.”

“...you guys should get out of here as quickly as possible,” Dorian sighed eventually, leaning their foreheads together.

“We’ll stick around a little longer, if it’s all the same to you. Hey, don’t give me that look,” he added, at Dorian’s arched eyebrows. “No point in turning our backs on this before we’re sure it’s over, is there? Besides, Stitches should take a look at your head, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh, because you were so concerned about my grievous head wounds when you heaved me around like a sack of potatoes just now,” Dorian mumbled. “Fine, fine, we’ll stick together until we’re sure it’s safe, have it your way. Let’s at least try to stay headed towards the border, though. The sooner you cease parading before the entirety of my homeland like a mesmerizingly muscled shooting target the sooner I can sleep at night.”

Bull slid his hand from under Dorian’s thigh to his ass and squeezed invitingly, wiggling his eyebrows. “Pretty sure I could help tire you out, if sleep’s what you’re after.”

Dorian snorted, but his eyes went soft. He hummed mock-thoughtfully, writhing suggestively. “Well, you know me. I can resist everything but temptation.”

Bringing the calculations that had been running in the back of his mind to the forefront Bull glanced over at the position of the sun and thought through how much daylight they had left. “How far is it to the closest town? I’d feel better not standing in the middle of an open field when it starts to get dark.”

“There’s a place three miles or so down the road. It’s, hm, what’s the polite word… _quaint_ , perhaps. Rustic, certainly. But it has proper walls and _some_ basic facilities — I should send a letter to Maevaris, in case the bastards decide to strike at her next.” Dorian exhaled, resting his temple on Bull’s shoulder. “Maker. Three miles. Having you carry me suddenly seems a much more promising prospect. I might just feign unconsciousness again. You know, for the sake of my dignity, whatever might be left of it.”

“Just say the word,” Bull said. “It’s like hauling around a couple of grapes, no big deal on my part.”

“I resent that,” Dorian said cheerfully. “Okay, set me down, we should go make sure everyone gets out of this in one piece.”  

He straightened his robes, groaning at the state of them as he did. “This was real Orlesian silk, you know,” he said mournfully. “Vivienne said it ‘wasn’t entirely unserviceable’, last time we met.”

“Damn,” Bull said as he helped him get the worst of the grass off, genuinely impressed.

“I _know_ ,” Dorian moaned. “Back to the drawing board. Or to my poor beleaguered tailor, as the case may be. Oh. Hello there, Aclassi.”

Krem, who’d obviously finished yelling at Rocky and had sidled up on them at some point in the last five minutes, cleared his throat, hands folded on his back — while he kept his face carefully blank one got the impression he was inwardly nursing a shit-eating grin. To be fair he’d been the one who’d had to deal with Bull’s general edginess the last few days; he’d earned all the laughing at the Chief he pleased. He nodded in greeting at Dorian, who was flushing slightly, then looked back to Bull. “Good to see you’re still in one piece. You, uh, all caught up here, Chief?”

“Just about,” Bull said, unconcerned. “We ready to head out?”

“Just about,” Krem parroted with a cheery tilt of his head.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for, let’s get on with it,” Dorian said, squaring his shoulders and striding imperiously away. Krem startled and hurried to keep up with him.

Bull allowed himself a moment of watching their backs and listening to Dorian put together some sincere yet comfortably indirect way of thanking Krem for coming before he followed them.

**Author's Note:**

> It took me like five playthroughs of DA:I to land in Adoribull hell, but here we are; I have officially Arrived! I wrote this after I finished Trespasser for the first time and couldn’t stop thinking about Bull learning to sort of ask for what *he* needs as well as trying to be the right thing for someone else. (How convenient that the Right Thing for Dorian is to be in a long term healthy relationship with a partner he can emotionally trust, including to communicate their own needs, huh *eyes*)  
> Also you guys will never know how hard it was for me to not have Bull say the words ‘booty call’ in this (because that’s an anachronism too far, even for me)


End file.
